


With obdurate love

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Frottage, Horny teenage elves, M/M, Okay so 'teenage' might be inaccurate but that's basically how I write them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2252808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros thinks Fingon can be a little singleminded. Fingon thinks Maedhros likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With obdurate love

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Твердолобая любовь](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9460361) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



Maitimo was propped up in bed, reading a book, when Findekáno slipped through his window. 

Again. 

Maitimo tore his eyes from his book and sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I have a very large indoor-outdoor cat. Do you have some sort of aversion to  _doors_?” 

“Windows are more fun,” said Findekáno, grinning and coming over to the bed. “And this way I don’t have to worry about accidentally encountering your father.” 

“You could still – ” But Findekáno was sitting on the bed next to him and plucking the book nimbly from his hands. “I was reading that.” 

“Oh?” Findekáno didn’t look in the slightest bit apologetic.

“What are you doing here, Finno?” 

“What am I ever doing here?” Findekáno’s grin widened, and he swung himself astride Maitimo’s hips. 

“ _Finno_ ,” Maitimo said warningly, as Findekáno bent down to kiss him. “Can’t you even pretend you come over for other reasons?” 

Findekáno frowned. “I come to see you, Maitimo, but I’m not going to pretend that a good part of my motivation isn’t to see you naked.” He tugged at Maitimo’s shirt. “To demonstrate, I will begin by – ” 

Maitimo shook his head. “You’re just proving my point. You’re ins – ” 

“If you call me insatiable one more time, I swear I will cut your hair off in your sleep.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“No, I wouldn’t.” Findekáno sighed and ran a lock of Maitimo’s long hair through his fingers fondly. “Come, what do you want from me, Maitimo? To pretend I don’t want you? To pretend all my visits are purely chaste and friendly?” 

“You could stand to gain some subtly, is all. You’re so single-minded sometimes, honestly. You could at least  _pretend_ to make small-talk before leaping into bed.” 

Findekáno looked down at him, and a calculating look came into his eyes. “You want me to be more coy with you? Fine, I can do that.” 

He rolled off his cousin and propped himself up on one elbow. “What shall we discuss? Nothing unseemly, of course.” He tapped his fingers against his lips, thinking. “Findaráto has been talking of starting a theatre troupe with some of the visiting Teleri. I wondered if he’d mentioned the idea to Makalaurë, but he said – rather loftily, I thought, but maybe that’s just me – that it wasn’t going to be  _musical_  theatre, and at any rate there were other people capable of playing instruments in Tirion. Doesn’t that sound a bit defensive? Have they had a falling out or something? Maybe Ingoldo’s just getting tired of his own musical gifts being overlooked. He does have a fine voice, even if his repertoire is rather sentimental. I like Makalaurë’s selection much better, especially his bloody songs about the Dark Days. They’re so stirring, don’t you think? Also – ” 

 _Amazing_ , Maitimo thought, as his cousin chattered on,  _how he can transition so rapidly from intimacy to mindless conversation_. He himself was barely hearing a word that came from Findekáno’s mouth, still stirred by the all too brief sensation of Findekáno’s weight on top of him, and now, watching how Findekáno’s braids slipped over his shoulder, and how his tunic gaped open over his chest slightly… 

He shook himself, and tried to focus on what his cousin was saying – something about Telerin drumming techniques; how on Arda had they gotten there? – but was distracted as Findekáno turned over on his back and stretched, reaching his arms over the pillows, apparently unconscious of how it pulled his tunic tight over his chest. 

“ – I think it has something to do with the spring fishing season, but you’d have to ask Makalaurë – ” 

Maitimo swallowed, trying to focus on something other than the arch of Findekáno’s throat, bare and vulnerable as he tilted his head back. And the flex of the muscles in his arms… 

“ – which Findaráto would never do, of course – ” 

“Stop,” said Maitimo, unable to help himself. 

Findekáno looked at him innocently. “What?” 

“You – You’re doing that on purpose.” 

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Being simultaneously boring and alluring.” 

Findekáno laughed. “Make up your mind, Maitimo. Either I’m overly focused on the carnal or I’m being boring, it can’t be both.” 

“It can.” Maitimo scowled and shifted closer on the bed, so he was lying against Findekáno’s side. “I don’t know how, but you’re managing it. You’re punishing me for calling you single-minded.” 

“It does seem ironic,” said Findekáno lightly, folding his arms behind his head and gazing at the ceiling. “That you accuse me of having a one-track mind when it’s you who can’t even tell me what we were talking about because you were thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy.” His gaze flicked down briefly, and his smile widened. “Thinking very  _hard,_ were you?” 

Maitimo let out a curse and rolled on top of Findekáno, pinning his wrists to the pillows. “Damn you, Findekáno.” 

“Maitimo,” Findekáno chided, though his eyes shone with fun and his voice was slightly breathless. “How  _insatiable_  you are.” 

“You do this to me,” growled Maitimo, and he nuzzled into Findekáno’s throat, making his cousin gasp beneath him. “You send my self-control out the window…” 

“Oh yes, it’s all my fault,” Findekáno murmured, arching his neck for Maitimo’s lips. “I’m  _such_  a bad influence…”

“You are,” said Maitimo, and drew back. 

Findekáno let out a huff of impatience. “After all that, you’re not even going to kiss me?” 

“No.” But Maitimo stayed on top of Findekáno, hands wrapped around his wrists, and he shifted his hips slightly. 

Findekáno let out a breath at this and parted his legs so that Maitimo settled between them. The sensation made Maitimo’s heart speed up rapidly, but he stared down at Findekáno steadfastly, refusing to yield to the temptation to kiss him senseless. 

Instead he lowered his head until he could feel Findekáno’s breath on his lips, and murmured, “You’re not the only one who can be a tease.” 

“Stubborn,” breathed Findekáno, tilting his face up so their lips were almost brushing. “Are you so proud, Maitimo?” 

“I’m not going to make the first move,” said Maitimo, and wet his lips with his tongue. Findekáno caught his breath and parted his lips expectantly, but once again Maitimo held back, even thought he could feel the heat surging through his body. Instead he ground down lightly between Findekáno’s legs. 

Findekáno groaned, his eyes half closing. “I’m not going to break,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And two can play this game.” He rocked his hips, so that Maitimo could feel his hard length rubbing against him through their clothes. 

“ _Eru_.” 

Findekáno smiled, even as color rose in his cheeks. “What was that?” 

Maitimo closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Findekáno’s, their breath mingling as they rubbed against each other. “I can hold out if you can.” 

“Can you?” Findekáno arched his head back, and Maitimo pressed his face against the exposed skin of his throat, pressing his lips lightly to the pulse beating rapidly beneath the skin. “C’mon, Maitimo.  _Ah_  – ” Findekáno gasped as Maitimo released one of his wrists and slid a hand down along Findekáno’s torso, all the way to his hip. 

“…Yes?” 

Findekáno turned his face away, shuddering as Maitimo rubbed persistently against him, dragging his lips lightly along his cousin’s throat. His own control was holding on only by a thread, his erection almost painful between his legs as he ground relentlessly against Findekáno.

“Damn it, Maitimo…” Findekáno was panting, his lips open, and Maitimo closed his eyes against the temptation to close the distance between them and seize Findekáno in a deep kiss. He wrapped a hand around Findekáno’s thigh and tugged it up around his waist as Findekáno groaned. “ _Bastard._ ”

Maitimo’s breath was coming hard too, and he bowed forward over Findekáno, still refusing to bend a further inch and bring their lips together. “Oh – ” He caught his breath and then nuzzled against Findekáno’s jaw until his cousin turned his head, and Maitimo ran a vengeful tongue against his ear. 

“Manwë,” whispered Findekáno, and shuddered so violently that Maitimo felt every movement of it shake through him. “I’m going to – ” 

Maitimo opened his mouth to say something triumphant, but gasped instead as he felt Findekáno throb against him. “ _Findekáno_.” 

“Oh,  _oh_  – Maitimo.” Findekáno cried out, the fingers of one hand digging into Maitimo’s low back, his other hand clenching reflexively against Maitimo’s where it was still pinned to the mattress. 

It was too much for Maitimo, and he surged forward, coming with a cry. As they pulsed together, their lips met hungrily at last, and Maitimo groaned into their kiss as Findekáno pulled his hand free and wrapped his fingers into Maitimo’s hair.

 

 

Maitimo rolled off Findekáno after what seemed an age, and lay panting beside him. 

“Well,” Findekáno said at last, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Who won?”

“I’d say we both did,” said Maitimo, when he could speak again, raking his fingers through his damp hair, pulling it away from his face. “Or both lost.” 

Findekáno rolled over and grimaced slightly. “If you had just been receptive to my overtures from the beginning instead of being so pigheaded, we wouldn’t be left with – ” he gestured ruefully to their ruined clothes, “ – this mess to clean up.” 

“Mm,” said Maitimo, too content to care. 

“Stubborn,” Findekáno whispered, and pressed his lips to Maitimo’s ear. “Don’t ever change.”   

 

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. I am way too pleased by the fact that the root meaning of “obdurate” is essentially “rock hard”.


End file.
